"I'm part alien. My tendrils are pretty strong and can lift heavy objects if you need me to."

"Well, I'm sure I can get over my peeves for you and those eyes of yours, Miss Drosera,"Adrien said, sidling up to the woman,"You seem a lively sort, you ever seen a man naked in the moonlight on a warm summers night? I'd be happy to introduce you to the experience if you're up for it. Of course I'd only expect you to take me up on it after we lose the Gray Guy and Beardy Alien Man..."

"Besides, you're pretty damn lucky being an otherwise ordinary human, like Nightwing and Robin here, kicking extra-ordinary ass. That should count for a lot."

"You've got a point there Doctor Shark,"He said, clapping his hands after a moment of thought, provoking a grimace and grunt from behind the helmet,"You regrow your teeth if they break? And on second thought, why can't you scientist guys go a month or year or any substantial amount of time without some kind of lab experiment screwing with your genetic structure or whatever?"

Cavanaugh nearly missed the question as he laughed at the solicitation Adrien made towards Drosera. He had to admit, the guy had style, and he had to admire that. At times like these, snark, sarcasm and style were much needed, and rarely in supply. So, he decided to mess with him a little, leaning over and unhinging his jaw.

With his maw open as far as his new jaw structure would allow, he reached up and yanked out one of his larger teeth. It didn't exactly make much of a dent as far as his mouth was concerned, since there were several rows of smaller teeth, just before the front-most row.

"You have no idea how accurate that 'Doctor Shark' nickname is.", he said once he closed his mouth, chuckling, then he motioned towards Drosera, "Real smooth by the way. I can tell you're a regular ladykiller, Adrien. You sure you're single?", he asked teasingly, leaning forward a little bit and snickering.

Luke smiled at Alfred's seemingly anachronistic sense of etiquette even in the face of a possible apocalypse, he could tell that the old man held a dear place in Nightwing and Robin, and presumably the Bat himself as well.

"My my..."

"The illustrious and dashing Domino, chivalry incarnate and expert rogue, at your service! Need a safe cracked in ten seconds flat? Desire an impossible-to-acquire artifact? Or maybe just want some guards dealt with while you do whatever it is that needs doing? Look no further, I'm your man!"

He watched and listened to Domino's rather gallant and decidedly humble self-introduction, his dapper apparel cast an interesting silhouette next to his own, they were both well interestingly rather well dressed vagabonds.

"You may call me Fortune, as like my namesake my own fortunateness knows no bounds. I always prosper in whatever endeavour. Those that have been close to me have also noted a markedly less profound effect, but an effect nonetheless, that helps them in their own struggles. I attribute my serendipity to The Lady herself, who has blessed my cause since birth."

He took a pause, letting all that he was relating sink in to those who were still interested.

"I also have a unique affinity for these cards..."

He held out his deck flat in the palm of his hand, before the cards seemingly came to life on their own and span in a circle in front of him.

"They have a vorpal edge, able to cut through the thickest steel. Although they can also be used defensively to create a barrier."

He illustrated his point as the cards drew still in a rectangular wall in front of him.

"Apart from that I'm a mild acrobat, and I can play the piano pretty well too. I like cocktails and rain."

"This allows me to change into any animal of the Chinese Zodiac plus the cat. Just letting you know."

His attention wavered as he was drawn to the comment made by Sean. He had to address the elephant in the room.

Johnathan had seemed to have stopped in place as he mulled over the extraordinary anatomical anomolies this man had about him. He watched as he wandered off to speak to one of the helmeted heroes for a spell. It didn't take long before McQuarry meandered over towards the pair, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Well, I must say, 'tis quite a pleasure to meet another man o' science," McQuarry said with delight as he grasped the man's hand with both of his own and shook it vigorously. "I'm Johnathan McQuarry, Doctor of Science. Apologies, but I can't 'elp bein' curious about yer conditions - these...mutations, if ye will."

While keeping a firm grip on Dr. Sutherland's right hand with his own, Johnathan made a quick adjustment of his spectacles with his free hand. Turning the back of his fellow doctor's hand up as he leaned forward to take a closer look, he began inspecting the large claws in place of ordinary fingernails.

"Peculiar. Very peculiar," McQuarry muttered as trailed one of the claws with the fingers of his free hand, then continued his examination by feeling one of the ridges of the carapace on Sutherland's arm. "Yer claws, are they pure keratin in , or 'ave they been reinforced by some other naturally produced 'ard tissue? And I've been wond'rin', are yer teeth simply the result o' growth o' yer enamel, or are they mostly dentin and cementum? I also couldn't 'elp but notice yer irises, bringin' me to question whether or not yer body 'as found some way to produce chromatophores, most likely an alternatin' structure composed of xanthophores 'n' erythrophores. Although it could simply be just light melanophores 'eavily effected by excess xanthopterin, which quite possibly could mean ye've a failin' liver or 'emolysis, though ye'd likely 'ave died by now 'ad tha' been the case..."

Johnathan's voice trailed off as he took note of the tooth Sutherland had removed was still in his hand. McQuarry didn't hesitate to remove it from the fellow scientist's possession and begin to inspect it. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating..."

Cavanaugh paused in his snickering to glance over at Johnathan as he examined him rather closely. That made him feel both mildly amused, as well as quite a bit uncomfortable with being seen as a specimen. But, he didn't stop him, even when the eccentric scientist snatched away the tooth he yanked out. When he finally paused, the Good Doctor spoke up.

"Really, I'm not sure what my teeth, claws, or much about me beyond my saliva is like on the genetic or chemical level. Part of why I was interested in equipment that could analyze genetic code and chemical makeup in extensive detail. After all, a geneticist that doesn't even know his own genes is kind of sad. Part of why I'm interested in your lab, actually.", he added, just before he smiled a little wider.

"Tell you what, since I'm going to need help anyway analyzing my DNA, among other things, if you'll help me with my other research, such as the Sanare Serum and VitaStims, you'll have full access to any of my chemical formulas, and you'll have your chance to... Study me in detail.", he said, obviously uncomfortable with the idea, but he figured as long as he was going to be studying himself, he could use a partner.

Johnathan was available, and he certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about, eccentricities aside.

I've got one of your old wing-dings, and a batarang I've had since I was a kid...

"That's... a little terrifying." Dick said, raising an eyebrow and trying not to look too disconcerted. "But, whatever, I guess."

Dick Grayson responded to each introduction in the same vein. He was smiling, and the words he said had a genuine air to them, but his growing frustration was visible. He was clearly eager to get out and get moving. The second to last to speak was a strange robot that referred to itself as "Rocket Robo".

When McQuarry explicitly introduced himself to only a single member of the team, he threw his hands up and said "Screw it, that counts!"

He ushered everyone back over to the computer. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry if I'm a little on-edge right now, but we're seriously strapped for time. Neither Zod or Lobo is dead, but we have a little time before they recover. And I do mean a little, so we have to get this done very quickly or risk the whole plan falling apart. Now that we're all at least acquainted, I think I can safely say we'll get to the friendly stuff later. Right now, we've got work."

The computer was still showing the sewers and the location that needed to be powered. But first, Nightwing pointed at the two doctors, and Adrien.

"You three, Adrien, Cavanaugh, and McQuarry. Tim should be waiting for you in the garage, just head up the big staircase, take a left in the parlor then head out the white-framed door in the kitchen."

He then pointed to four other members of his ragtag group. "Stormalong, Drosera, Shadowstar, and Rocket Robo, you'll all be heading to this location:"

A few more manipulations of the keyboard brought the view to an inconspicuous street near the center of the city, a bank on one side of the street and an Italian restaurant on the other. "On Mire Avenue, between Elm and Needermeyer Streets. From there, Alfred can guide you through our communications systems. That reminds me, catch."

He tossed everyone an earpiece to put on. "This will be your link to the rest of us. Don't lose it. You guys can head up to the garage, too; there'll be an SUV waiting for you there. Take that."

Finally, he pointed at the remaining trio. "You all will be with me; we're taking the Batmobile. The destination is the Iceberg Lounge, if you've heard of it. Grab your gear and hop in."

And like a man possessed, Dick Grayson began to suit up. He approached the spare costume that Alfred had managed to set out for him in the confusion and slapped it on in under a minute. Years of practice at work. With the spirit gum in place, the mask slipped over his face, and Nightwing was approaching the Batmobile with grim determination.

Glancing over at Dick, the Good Doctor nodded, understanding that he was itching to get back into action. He couldn't blame him: He was a hero, and he was used to being able to do something to help. Having a plan, it would have been natural for him to want to leap into action.

Then he nodded again as he was motioned to, along with Adrien and McQuarry.

"You three, Adrien, Cavanaugh, and McQuarry. Tim should be waiting for you in the garage, just head up the big staircase, take a left in the parlor then head out the white-framed door in the kitchen.".

"Got it.", he said, turning to start upstairs, just before Dick remembered something important, causing him to glance back.

"That reminds me, catch."

He handily caught the communicator and slipped it over his ear, then gave Nightwing a thumbs-up.

"Right. Come on, Adrien, Doctor. Lets make a supply run, then see if we can help Nightwing take down some alien bastards.", he said, jerking his head toward the staircase before heading up it himself.

"Real smooth by the way. I can tell you're a regular ladykiller, Adrien."

"Oh come on Doc,"He said, low enough so that no one else heard but the two of them,"don't blow my cover, I've got a live one....I think."

"You three, Adrien, Cavanaugh, and McQuarry. Tim should be waiting for you in the garage, just head up the big staircase, take a left in the parlor then head out the white-framed door in the kitchen."

"Alrighty Di-Nightwing, so I'm heading out with the brains?"

He started his way up the staircase again, but was turned around again with the throwing of an earpiece, he caught it and took his helmet off again, securing the ear piece in place before stuffing his head back into the military mask. A few tweaks with it and he was a click away from recording again.

As he passed Alfred, he nodded and tipped a nearby hat to him,"See ya Al." He then placed it back and made his way to where Nightwing had said Red Robin was,"Damn this place is huge.I thought it was big on the outside, the inside is monstrous."

After all the introductions and pleasantries were done with, Nightwing ceased trying to fake patience and got right back down to business, putting everyone on their assignments.

"Stormalong, Drosera, Shadowstar, and Rocket Robo, you'll all be heading to this location"

Nightwing brought up their target on the computer and started handing out the headsets. Shadow put the piece up to wear his ear would normally be and let the dark energy latch onto it and pull it down towards the human flesh underneath.

"Let's get moving people, the apocalypse waits for no man."

"One does not simply stop the apocalypse"

Shadow ran over to his bag on the floor and zipped it up, then ran back to his assigned teammates.

Understandably, Dick didn't really like stopping for pleasantries. But then, this wasn't that at all, really. This was 'These are the faces and identities you're entrusting with the fate of the world', and that's where Alfred had his point. Suffice to say, introductions being over, the plan was to move ahead while Zod and Lobo worked on recovery, and Dick couldn't emphasize enough how short on time they were in that respect. Fair enough. So, he began to divide them up and...

"Stormalong, Drosera, Shadowstar, and Rocket Robo, you'll all be heading to this location: On Mire Avenue, between Elm and Needermeyer Streets. From there, Alfred can guide you through our communications systems. That reminds me, catch."

Jake caught without looking. Somewhere between Instant A and Instant B, he had grabbed more food and drink and was listening while focusing on the screen, not on the Grayson. Jake inspected and then put on the earpiece in question.

"This will be your link to the rest of us. Don't lose it. You guys can head up to the garage, too; there'll be an SUV waiting for you there. Take that."

That said, Nightwing was already heading for the Batmobile after announcing the rest of his plans. Shadowstar was already on the move for the door, but he would find himself being passed by a blur on a gust of wind, already heading for the garage in question. By the time he and the others would get there, Jake was at the SUV in question, twirling the keys.

"You three, Adrien, Cavanaugh, and McQuarry. Tim should be waiting for you in the garage, just head up the big staircase, take a left in the parlor then head out the white-framed door in the kitchen."

"Ah, fantastic," Johnathan said, evidently giddy with anticipation of returning home, if only for a spell. He whistled a tune as he fetched his hat and jacket before following the others. The scientist was halted momentarily as an earpiece was tossed his way, which he barely managed to catch after having both hands busy with putting on the jacket. McQuarry fiddled with the earpiece a bit, making silent quality assessments as he fitted it into his ear. "Alrigh', gents. Le's be on our way."

"Well, I'm sure I can get over my peeves for you and those eyes of yours, Miss Drosera. You seem a lively sort, you ever seen a man naked in the moonlight on a warm summers night? I'd be happy to introduce you to the experience if you're up for it. Of course I'd only expect you to take me up on it after we lose the Gray Guy and Beardy Alien Man..."

Felicia leaned back a bit, after Adrien slid along next to her. Even her tendrils couldn't lift her high enough away from the man but his advances were no less flattering.

"I'll think about it..." Felicia said to him in between her nervous laughter. She didn't like rejecting people but people like Adrien always made her a bit uneasy at first. Felicia hoped that he was just kidding about the naked part though.

"Real smooth by the way. I can tell you're a regular ladykiller, Adrien. You sure you're single?"

Felicia heard the Doctor said and she laughed at the observation he made. But after a bit of fun she listened to what Dick had to say considering what they were to do next. As much fun as it was in this cave, she still wanted to go out and help other people who didn't get to have the same advantages they have.

"Stormalong, Drosera, Shadowstar, and Rocket Robo, you'll all be heading to this location: On Mire Avenue, between Elm and Needermeyer Streets. From there, Alfred can guide you through our communications systems. That reminds me, catch."

One of her tendrils caught the communicator and placed in her ear. She tapped it a bit with her fingers as the others began to head for the exit. As soon as she moved it where it didn't bother her ear that much, she headed off to the car where the others were anxiously awaiting. She moved inside the vehicle and placed herself behind the driver's seat.

By the time Shadow had gotten to the garage, the demon man was there with the keys in his hand. With Stormalong apparently offering to chauffeur the others to the destination, Shadow opted to go around the other side of the car and get in the passanger side.

"I'm ready", Drosera said from the back.

Shadow let out a yawn and settled into his seat with his feet up on the dashboard.

As they reached the garage, those on the supply run were met by a young man. He was significantly shorter than Dick, likely still a teenager. His face was bruised and a bit swollen in places, though cleaned of any blood. A piece of gauze was stuck to the left side of his forehead. A bulge under his left pant leg suggested he was wearing a mechanical brace for it. His black hair hung loosely, though generally directed backwards and wet as if fresh from a shower. In all, he really didn't look that much different than his adoptive brother. Though where the usual snark was dark and cynical in Nightwing as of late, Tim Drake seemed a tad happier. Though he may simply have been glad to be moving at all in his condition.

"So you're my team then?" he asked. He shook all their hands quickly, introducing himself to each. "Tim Drake, Tim Drake, still Tim Drake, pleasure to meet you. I guess we won't be taking the Red Cycle if we've got four people... oh, sweet! That means--"

He led them into the garage, where Stormalong and co. were jumping into a large, black SUV. This group, however, was led to a bright red Camaro. Tim flattened himself against the hood, rubbing it affectionately. "Oh, I thought I'd never get to drive this baby." He leaned up and directed the others to get inside, hopping into the driver's seat as they did. The keys were already in the car, likely set up by Alfred some time beforehand.

"All right, let's fire this thing up." the boy said with far too gleeful a look on his face. He started up the car with a roar, the garage door behind them opening as he quickly backed out, turning the car around with a deft spin of the wheel to face straight down the road.

Meanwhile, down below, the Batmobile was facing the exit on its own path out, the engines roaring to life as Nightwing set everything up. The others had been dragged in and put in their seats. "It'll be a good five, ten minutes before we reach the place. Depending on 'traffic'." Nightwing informed them.

With a growl from the engine that could easily have come from a jet, the colossal car was streaking off through the tunnel.

A moment later, they were out in the open air of the Gotham Night.

"If anybody has any questions about where we're going, ask 'em now. Won't exactly be prudent when we're inside."

As Cavanaugh led the way to the garage, he spotted who he instantly assumed to be Robin out of costume, who stepped up and shook each of their hands, introducing himself. Even as the Good Doctor shook his hand politely, he noticed that the poor guy was still beaten all to hell. He was planning on hopefully changing it so he was only mildly bruised once they got to his clinic.

He paused, then stepped into the garage before flattening himself against an absolutely gorgeous crimson Camaro.

"Oh, I thought I'd never get to drive this baby."

Grinning a little more widely, Cavanaugh nodded. "That is one bitchin Camaro. This is going to be pretty fun! I call shotgun!", he called out, getting into the passenger seat before anyone else could claim it first.

"All right, let's fire this thing up. Where to?"

"First things first, we need to get to my clinic, and get you better patched up. Same goes for Adrien.", Cavanaugh told him, just before telling him the address, hoping he knew just where they were headed.

As soon as they were all in - they had to wait a bit for Rocket Robo - Jake did indeed punch it. The SUV headed out of the garage and zoomed down the road while the driver put on some music. He didn't have the radio on. He just happened to have Elvis on standby. Don't ask. Anyway, he had to find this place they were looking for, and there'd be no GPS. Fortunately, he knew Gotham well enough to get around it. He'd signal Alfred once they got to the place.

"Ah, a private-owned clinic, you say?" McQuarry pondered and he clambered into the rear of the Camaro. "A respectable practioner's office no doubt, fer a respectable man o' yer profession."

Johnathan's nostrils were met with the strong scent of 'new car' as he filled his lungs full of air. He relished in the chemical mixture's aroma shortly before exhaling with a pleased sigh. "Ahh, nothin' like the smell o' volatile organic compounds to let ya know you're in a quality piece o' mechanical engineerin'."

"If anybody has any questions about where we're going, ask 'em now. Won't exactly be prudent when we're inside."

"I suppose I do have a few," Mark began, raising his hand as though he was back in high school. "Is this really the best idea? Or rather, is it even a mildly good one? I suppose it makes sense to look for help anywhere you can find it, even if it means plunging into Gotham's underbelly. But why wait this long? By now, won't any of the surviving inhabitants be so paranoid and boarded up that they'll try and kill us on sight?"

Shrugging, the thief tried to meet Nightwing's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "I'm just not too wild about walking headfirst into a deathtrap, if you know what I mean. Or," he continued to muse, "do you have some other plans that we don't know about?"

Glancing back, Cavanaugh shook his head. "Actually, it was abandoned in the slums. Since I couldn't exactly stay at my apartment after essentially becoming Genesis R&D's property, I holed up there, and eventually started treating the people there as best I could. It's a shit-hole, but its my shit-hole, and it has my formulas, supplies, and the things I need to synthesize my serums.", he told the eccentric scientist.

"One of those serums should be able help you two, Adrien, Tim. It may not mend broken bones, but it should definitely give you an easier time.", the mutant announced rather cheerfully, just before motioning to the radio.

"Ah, you mind if I put on some music? It'd be a shame not to, being such a sweet ride and all.", he added, grinning more widely at their driver.

"You all will be with me; we're taking the Batmobile. The destination is the Iceberg Lounge, if you've heard of it. Grab your gear and hop in."

Fortune was slow to mobilise, having drifted into one of his often bemoaned trance-like states. It was lucky that his attention was returned as Nightwing pointed a finger at him and motioned for them to come to the Batmobile. Being the last of the trio to clamber aboard, he was at the mercy of fate with regards to who he'd be stuck with for the entirety of the journey, he hoped it would be the suited gentleman, at least they'd have something in common with which to break the ice.

As he was dragged into his seat with scarcely time to call shotgun, the Batmobile's engine roared to life with the sound of a jet turbine, it's presumably advanced form of propulsion far ahead of a common station wagon. The force of the sudden acceleration as the vehicle went from zero to sixty in the space of a second was jarring, the G-Force, forcing Luke back in his seat. He struggled to find a seatbelt as the car sped out of a tunnel and into the moon/fire lit streets of Gotham.

*CLICK*

"Safety first..."

"If anybody has any questions about where we're going, ask 'em now. Won't exactly be prudent when we're inside."

"I'm just not too wild about walking head first into a death-trap, if you know what I mean. Or do you have some other plans that we don't know about?"

"I am of a similar mind. Why, pray tell, are we heading into one of the most infamous criminal dens on the Eastern Seaboard?"

"The Iceberg Lounge? A trap? Oh, most certainly," Mark replied, the hints of a grin dancing around his lips. Considering the circumstances and subject matter, there was almost an offensive amount of affection in his tone, but the thief carried on nevertheless.

"The opulent headquarters of one Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, the Iceberg Lounge is said to be one of the most impressive and high-end locales in all of Gotham. The magazines and papers are always raving about its perfect decor, world-class service, and top-notch entertainment. Pity I wasn't ever able to make it; it was one of the reasons I decided to come to Gotham," Mark mused, his voice growing wistful. "What the press doesn't talk about, however, is the stuff that goes on in the club's backrooms. If you've been in Gotham for any amount of time before... well, all of this, you've probably heard of the Penguin, yes? Pudgy little fellow, has a thing for top hats and umbrellas (Much like Cobblepot himself, if you see where I'm going with this)? Well, they say he controls the Lounge with an iron... talon? Do penguins have talons? Or are they more of a flipper thing?

"Anyway," he continued, shaking his head to get back on course, "bottom line, the Iceberg is a front for all manner of misdeeds and villainy. And, unless I'm waaaaaaaaay off, the reason we're currently heading there is to enlist some of the perpetrators of said heinous acts. If they're still alive, and willing to talk first, that is.

"I know the old saying, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' but it's a little hard to get all buddy-buddy when they're trying to rip your head off."

"Actually, it was abandoned in the slums. Since I couldn't exactly stay at my apartment after essentially becoming Genesis R&D's property, I holed up there, and eventually started treating the people there as best I could. It's a shit-hole, but its my shit-hole, and it has my formulas, supplies, and the things I need to synthesize my serums."

"Ah, well," McQuarry started, a bit astonished to hear the man's affirmations. Removing his glasses and began cleaning them with a small kerchief he withdrew from his jacket's breast pocket as he continued. "I've still li'l doubt 'tis a well-enough establishment. I'm eager to see these formulas o' yers."

As Cavanaugh started to fiddle with the radio, keeping the volume low until he found a station he wanted, he nodded absently to McQuarry.

"I've still li'l doubt 'tis a well-enough establishment. I'm eager to see these formulas o' yers.".

"Well, it suited my needs at the time. And I certainly didn't lose anyone due to lack of equipment: If someone died on my watch, I simply wasn't good enough.", he added in a soft, sad murmur.

Shaking his head, he forcefully brightened his tone. "Still, it should be fun working together. I've been meaning to get a look at my own genes for awhile now, and finding a way to improve my serums would help greatly. Ah, there we go!", he said when he finally found a station that he wanted, then turned it up.

Leaning back, he stretched even as his permanent grin widened. "I hope you three don't mind, but I find I think better with music in the background and coffee in my hand. Hell, that's usually how I get any work done.", he explained to the others, just before going silent and listening to the music.

It was clearly some sort of miracle, that no one seemed to mind the sleek, crimson Camaro flashing down the streets of what was once Gotham City. It weaved through the wreckage of shattered cars and trucks like it was child's play. This might have had a little to do with its driver; Tim Drake's face was frozen in an almost disturbing level of euphoria as his own personal Robin-mobile blasted down avenues, cut through alleyways, and at last pulled to a slow, meticulous halt. If anyone in the passenger seats survived the trip, they would be able to look outside, and see they had just arrived at Cavanaugh's clinic.

Tim was kind enough to provide narration.

"If the passengers would look to the right of the vehicle, they will see we have reached the first stop on our tour of Gotham City. Medicine, splints, crutches--if it's barely legal when not in the hands of a certified nurse, you can find it here!"

Tim stepped out of the car and began walking for the door, hiding the limp in his step fairly well. "Let's get a move on, Doc, a Camaro this pretty can only sit still so long before somebody gets the idea to smash it!"

Almost simultaneously, Stormalong found himself at his assigned target. The schematics of the city that he'd scene really didn't do the carnage justice. An entire skyscraper had collapsed from the bottom up, and debris was spread out so badly he had to stop the truck almost two hundred feet away from the manhole. He looked up, and could see the clouds churning above the city. They grew darker, and angrier with each passing moment, and lightning was beginning to flash. What was worse, he could silhouettes hidden in the clouds with each strike of lightning. Gigantic, unfamiliar shapes waiting for the right moment to strike.

They'd need to move quickly.

"I know the old saying, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' but it's a little hard to get all buddy-buddy when they're trying to rip your head off."

Nightwing grimaced as Mark went on and on about his inexplicably thorough knowledge of the club. It wasn't a grimace that suggested that he disagreed with him--rather more like one that was well aware he was probably right.

Dick never took his eyes of the road, but he did respond.

"Penguin knows who he's messing with. If he's smart, he won't try anything. But... either way, it's not like we have much choice. I'm impressed you all managed to survive this long, but you'd taken your lumps long before Lobo had shown up. You're not enough. Not on your own. So, we need help."

The Batmobile rolled to a halt. They were in an abandoned parking lot, if you discounted the shattered husks of what were once vehicles. Up ahead sat their destination: the Iceberg Lounge, perhaps a little worse for wear but still clearly standing. One of the only places the invaders hadn't struck. The canopy of the car retracted, and Nightwing hopped out, beckoning the others to do the same.

"And with everyone else... gone, the only people we have left to turn to are old foes."

With his recruits in tow, Nightwing approached the front doors. Everyone gathered up behind him, he twisted the knob and threw the open.

"Penguin! I've got--"

Chk-CHK, Chk-CHK, Chk-CHK

Well over a dozen men in cobbled-together SWAT armor were gathered just past the doors, SMGs leveled at Dick Grayson's face. "On the ground, Nightwing!" one yelled.

That grimace was back. "I've GOT to stop giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Well I sure hope somebody picks up that phone," Mark darkly muttered as his hands stretched skyward. A pained wince flickered across his face and his right arm sagged somewhat, but the masked thief managed to keep the limb raised up. Today just kept getting better and better.

For the second time in as many hours, Mark found himself staring down the barrels of far more guns than he felt comfortable with. Though, on the plus side, at least there wasn't a couple of superhumans getting ready to grind his face into the asphalt. And who knew, maybe Nightwing really did have some kind of plan to get them out of this.

Then again, it was probably safe to assume that the Penguin would have his own schemes as well. Probably best to just play it safe for now; fight or flight could wait a few seconds.

"So, gents," Mark piped up, his words dripping with forced pleasantness. "I don't suppose the bar's still open, by any chance? I would kill for an appletini right about now."

A fresh bullet was squeezed out of its home, and whizzed approximately three inches too close to Mark's ear for any semblance of comfort. The man who fired it spoke with a particularly angry, almost screechy voice.

"What part of on the ground did I stutter on?! Get on your goddamned knees!"

Here came the payoff, Mark knew. The big plan, where Nightwing would beat his way through the guards and have Cobblepot on the floor, begging for mercy.

Any second now...

Nightwing?

He looked at his "leader", for any sort of command, and was met by a steely gaze. "Do what he says."

Nightwing lowered himself to his knees, hands clasped in surrender behind his head.

"What part of on the ground did I stutter on?! Get on your goddamned knees!"

"Oh, gee, I don't know," the thief replied with a roll of his eyes. "Maybe the bit where you left out 'please'. Or the part where your valet utterly failed to take our car," he continued, pointing a thumb at the Batmobile behind him.

But despite the bile that filled his tone, Mark did comply, slowly dropping to his knees even as he glared daggers at the thug. "What, the world comes to an end and you think it's okay to just slouch off on the service? Tch, five stars my ass."

Medicine, splints, crutches--if it's barely legal when not in the hands of a certified nurse, you can find it here!"

"Well, I sure hope my insurance covers it."

Adrien launched himself out of the car and pulled the Redshot, ready for anything in the supposedly abandoned clinic. If there was anything in there, he sincerely hoped it wasn't the table-legs-tentacle-monster from earlier today.

"Let's get a move on, Doc, a Camaro this pretty can only sit still so long before somebody gets the idea to smash it!".

The Good Doctor nodded and quickly stepped out of the passenger seat, jerking his head toward the others. "Come on. I can tell you now that this place hasn't been looted by the locals since I left.", he said, leading the way inside.

When he did, you could clearly see that any reflective surface was covered by some kind of cloth, and there were battery-powered lanterns strewn about here and there, all of them off. He grabbed one and turned it on, tapping the bottom of it roughly before the light shone properly.

The clinic itself was messy, but it was a kind of organized chaos. There were blankets and sleeping bags on the floor where people had slept. There were a few empty syringes of his Sanare serum on a tray right in the entrance. He led the way to the back where the offices were, opening the door, whose window was blackened. "Ah, here we are.", he said, striding inside and turning on another light.

The office itself was mostly bare, save the odd pressure-syringe in strange places, and there was delicate synthesizing equipment here and there for the development of formulas and serums. There was also a framed photo on the desk itself, of a geeky-looking woman with her arms around two mischievous girls and a third figure. It looked to be a boy, but his face was scribbled over with a black marker.

As soon as they were in, Cavanaugh grabbed a duffel bag and walked to a nearby closet, stuffing in a few clothes, then starting to put in some of the smaller equipment, along with handfuls of empty syringes. "Won't have time to sterilize them right now, but thankfully I have enough that are already properly sanitized for later.", he murmured to himself, before tossing three full syringes to Tim, Adrien and Johnathan respectively.

"You two, inject that into your upper arm. That should heal any superficial wounds, blah blah. Won't heal bones, but it should speed up the healing process somewhat, and ease it a bit. And you can analyze that a little later, Dr. McQuarry.", he told them before going back to stuffing in his few belongings that he wasn't comfortable leaving behind.

It was after a moments hesitation that he took the framed photo as well.